


Jaime Lannister: Christmas Miracle

by LeoSapphirus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Christmas, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoSapphirus/pseuds/LeoSapphirus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne breaks her leg before the holidays and is forced to cancel her plans. She expects to spend Christmas alone. Jaime isn't having any of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brienne

**Author's Note:**

> Credit goes to Amaryllis for the prompt. Thanks. I hope I do it justice. 
> 
> Rating will go up later in the story.
> 
> Disclaimers: I own nothing. These characters belong to GRRM and HBO.
> 
> This work has not been betaed. All mistakes are my own.

“What happened?” Jaime asked as he rushed in. “I got a text from Sansa Stark saying you were in an accident.”

“I slipped on some ice and fractured my fibula.” Brienne said while gesturing to her left leg. It was set in a purple cast and prop up on a series of pillows.

“Fuck.” Jaime exclaimed. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“No. Sansa and Marg already took care of everything.” 

Jaime surveyed her and her surroundings; probably noticing the drinks, snacks, magazines, and books that had been carefully arranged around her.

“How bad did it hurt?” He asked.

Part of her wanted to tell him all about it. About how agonizing it had been. She wondered if he would hold her if she cried. But her pride won out. She wouldn't allow herself to look weak in front of Jaime. 

“It hurt intensely but I could handle it,” she told him almost dispassionately.

“Did it hurt more or less than getting swiped at by a bear?” He asked.

“It was a very different kind of pain,” she replied finding it odd that Jaime had brought that up. The bear attack had been over a year ago and was unrelated to the nature of her current injury. However, she was still very grateful to him for saving her life. 

“So what now?” He asked sitting next to her on the couch.

“I basically have to sit around for weeks with my leg elevated and wait for it to heal. Then I have to start physical therapy.”

“Why is your cast purple?” He inquired while staring at it. 

“Because Sansa told me to get a purple cast.” She replied feeling foolish. She’d been in so much pain she’d agreed to it without much thought. 

“Are you still going to Tarth?” Jaime asked dubiously.

“Probably not.” 

She could imagine it. Everyone would stare at her as she lumbered about in her cast. She was dependent on her cumbersome crutches besides. They were extra longs ones. They took up too much space. Just like she did. And how was she supposed to carry her luggage while she used those things? No. Traveling now would be too impractical. She’d visit in a few months. 

“I have to call my dad,” she announced abruptly. As her phone rang she noticed that Jaime had begun texting furiously.

“Brienne.” Her father greeted warmly. 

“Hi Dad.” She replied anxiously into the phone. “I have bad news. I was in an accident.”

“Oh Starfish, tell me you’re alright?” Her father demanded. His joyous drawl now morphed into doleful alarm. 

“It’s nothing serious. I mean, I broke my leg, but other than that I’m fine.”

“Good Lord. What happened?”

“I slipped on ice. It was right in front of my apartment building.”

“Oh no. How long was it until you were able to get help?” 

“I had my phone in my pocket. I called my friends Sansa and Margaery. They came right over and took me to the emergency room.” Jaime made some sound, something between a groan and snarl. She turned towards the noise only to find Jaime looking directly at her. “What?” She mouthed, but didn't wait for his response. Her father was talking to her.

“That must have been awful. I'm so grateful that your friends were able to help you.”

“I'm grateful too.” She really was. It would have been terrible to be lying on that icy sidewalk hoping that the person who came to give her aid would not spend too much time noticing her freakish appearance before they finally decided to help her. 

“What did the doctor say?”

“That I have a fractured fibula in my left leg. It’s a non-displacement fracture so I don't have to get surgery. It's going to take 4-6 weeks to heal.”

“Are you able to walk at all?”

“I have to use crutches. But it's not too bad. I'm on painkillers. Ones that don't make me feel sleepy. As long as I don't put weight on my leg I'm okay. The worst part is that I'm not going to be able to come home. I just can't manage traveling right now.”

“That breaks my heart, Starfish. I hate to think of you all by yourself on Christmas and with a broken leg. I wish I could come to you, but…”

Hurricane Aegon strikes again, Brienne thought ruefully. The Governor of Tarth could not go on holiday while his constituents were still reeling from the aftermath. It had been over four months ago since the natural disaster, but Tarth’s seafaring commerce was still hurting. Too many ships had been damaged in the storm. Her own beloved sailboat had taken a beating as well. 

“I know Dad. Tarth needs you. I understand that. I don't want you to worry about me. I'm sad that I won't see you this Christmas, but other than that I'm fine.” 

“Well, we're really going to miss you this year. Mera can't wait to meet you.”

“I can't wait to meet Mera either.” She said while injecting an eagerness into her voice that she really didn't feel.

“Alright Sweetling, I want you to get better so you can come visit as soon as possible.”

“I will.” She promised. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. I hope you and Mera have a wonderful Christmas.” 

“Take care, Starfish.”

“Bye.”

She hung up. 

“Who’s Mera?” Jaime asked. He always eavesdropped on her conversations.

“My Dad’s new girlfriend.” She said turning red.

“Another one?” Jaime laughed. “He has a new one every year.”

“So.” She said defensively. It wasn't her place to judge her father's relationships and it certainly wasn't Jaime's. Yet, she was thankful that her father’s popularity was enough to insulate him from accusations of being a womanizer. 

“Don't get cranky, wench.” 

“My name is Brienne.” She informed him as she'd done the million times before. 

“Do you think I don't know your name?”

“Well, you keep calling me wench so I guess sometimes you get confused.”

Jaime sighed. “How'd he take the news?”

“He was concerned and a bit disappointed that I'm not coming home. He didn't want me to be by myself for the holidays, especially while I have a broken leg. But he knows that traveling right now would be worse for me than being alone on Christmas.” 

“You won't be alone. I'll be here.” Jaime informed her. 

“You'll be here?” She was shocked. She'd expected to be utterly solitary on December 25th. It had been on her mind while Marg and Sansa drove her back from the hospital. She figured she'd get some reading done or…

“Where else would I go?” 

“Home. To your family.”

He made a face.

“I was disowned, remember? That means I'm officially banished from all family functions.”

Was that really why he wasn't going?

“I didn't think it would stick.” She admitted. 

“Oh it stuck. Tywin is as implacable as they come.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry for me. Be sorry for Tyrion. He's the one set to attend the Lannister Winter Extravaganza. It should have all the holiday warmth of a Wight Christmas party.” 

She knew, at least in part, some of the troubles he had with his father _and with his sister_. He had shared his secrets with her. Still, she didn't know what to say. 

“So Christmas is cancelled for the both of us?” She asked.

“No. Fuck no.” Jaime protested with an enthusiasm that seemed out of place. 

“What?”

“We need to have our own Christmas.” 

“Okay.” She agreed awkwardly. “When are you getting back from your trip?”

“That had to be cancelled.” 

“What!” That sent her panicking. “But just last night you were talking about your pre-Christmas ski trip with Tyrion and Daven.” 

“That was yesterday. This is today.” He said causally, as if his previous plans meant little and less. 

“Jaime, go on your trip. Come back afterwards if you don’t want to go home. You just…” 

“The trip has been cancelled, Brienne.” He interrupted. “I’m staying right here.”

“Does Tyrion know about this?” 

“Yes, he knows.” Jaime said tired of the topic. “So about Christmas, we have to make plans. What do you usually have for Christmas dinner?” 

“I don’t know… the usual stuff.” She mumbled as she had a mental break down. This ruined everything. All the planning she'd done. She had even spoken to Tyrion about it. 

“The usual stuff?” Jaime repeated wryly. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Why was the trip cancelled?” She asked.

“Because it was.”

“But why?”

“Why are you so obsessed with that trip? It’s not like I even ski anymore. I only agreed to go because Tyrion kept insisting I join him. Just let it go, wench. Something came up. The trip was cancelled.”

“Fine.” She said sullenly. Inside she wanted to scream. 

“Listen. We have to focus on what really matters. The reason for the season. I’m talking about lights, decorations, presents, and food. Let’s start with food. I want a big traditional Christmas dinner. That’s why I need actual names of dishes you want served.”

“Wait, who is making this dinner?” She asked, suddenly concerned about a matter other than her failed skiing surprise for Jaime. 

“I’m making this dinner.” He announced proudly. 

“You’re making Christmas dinner?” She questioned skeptically. It just seemed so implausible. Jaime didn't cook. In all the time they'd lived together, she'd never seen him make anything more complicated than a cup of tea.

“Why not? Because I lack a hand? That's pretty ableist of you, Brienne. I'd think you'd have more compassion towards a poor cripple like myself, especially considering your current condition.” 

“It's not because of that.” She said instantly, apologetically, the sudden guilt turning her stomach to knots. She'd never meant it like that. “It's just that you never cook. You either get take-out or eat what I make.”

“I can cook if I want to.” He proclaimed stubbornly. 

“I'm sure you can, but I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Making a dinner… a big traditional Christmas dinner… it can be a lot of work.” 

“Yee of little faith.” He said in mock disapproval. “You know Brienne, there's this thing called the Internet. You can search for all types of stuff on it. Like if you Google CHRISTMAS DINNER, you'll find all kinds of recipes and ingredient lists and instructions. It's not that hard.”

I have faith in you, she wanted to tell him. Hand or no hand, Jaime was an extremely capable man. He could make Christmas dinner if he really wanted to. She didn't doubt that.

“Well, if you feel up to it I think it's a good idea.” She said instead.

“Oh, I'm up for it”. He assured her, his bright green eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“I'm glad, Jaime.” She replied encouragingly, her heart suddenly soaring despite the day's events. 

Her leg hurt. She was still feeling the disappointment of Jaime's cancelled surprise. The disappointment of her own cancelled trip. But still, she was pleased that Jaime was pushing himself to do something outside his comfort zone. She'd wanted that for him. That had been the motivation behind the ski trip surprise.

“Okay. But don’t make this into something where you're proud of me for learning to ‘live with my disability’.” He said sardonically but with a measure of good humor hidden underneath. "I mean it Brienne, or I swear we're having nothing but old pretzels for Christmas.”

“I won't.” She promised squeakily. For a terrifying second she'd been sure Jaime had read her thoughts. Perhaps she was lucky the ski thing fell through. He probably would have hated her gift. 

“Brienne.”

“Yes, Jaime?”

“You don’t have to worry about cooking or anything else relating to Christmas or anything. I'm going to take care of it.”

“But I want to help.” She insisted. All of a sudden, it seemed important that she did her part. “I'm not very mobile at the moment, but I can still look for recipes and chop stuff and stir.”

“Deal.” Jaime said while smiling his happiest of smiles. The edge to his characteristically cutting grin was smooth and velvety for a change. No trace of bitterness or mocking touched his eyes. She had rarely seen him thus. 

An odd excitement coursed through her entire body, a dizzying thrill that dulled the pain of her broken leg somehow. It must be the spirit of the season she quickly told herself.


	2. Brienne

“So it’s just going to be you and Jaime _alone_ on Christmas?” Margaery asked rather suggestively.

“Yes.” Brienne answered willing herself not to blush, begging herself not to indulge in delusional fantasies. “His trip got cancelled and he’s not going home for the holidays so he’s going to be here too.”

“How convenient.” Margaery replied gleefully. 

“It’s not like that.” Brienne said without meaning to. She knew she should ignore Margaery’s playful teasing but it always got the better of her. 

“I think it is like that.” Margaery informed her melodiously. “I think he’s staying here for you. I think he wants to take care of you. I think he wants…”

“Stop, Marg. It really isn’t like that.” Brienne implored. Margaery was sweet to believe someone like her could get the handsome guy. But she had to be realistic, if only for her own sake. Her unlikely friendship with Jaime was just that, an unlikely friendship and nothing more. 

“Whatever you say.” Margaery answered amiably yet her eyes plainly said she didn’t buy it for a second.

Sansa came through the door then, her arms full. A sense of dread filled Brienne as she recognized what the girl carried.

“Mistletoe?” Brienne demanded in agitation.

“I have holly too.” Sansa answered innocently. She had also brought reams of red ribbon, nylon invisible hanging wire, tacks, and a staple gun. 

“What? Why?” Brienne asked frantically.

“We just thought it would be nice if we brightened up the place.” Sansa cheerfully replied.

“Just think of us as your personal candy stripers.” Margaery suggested with a wink. “We’re here to cheer you up, and take care of you, and make this place look nice and jolly.”

“You don’t need to bother.” She assured them. 

“It’s no bother, Brienne.” Sansa said warmly. The girl had already begun to arrange small bundles of mistletoe and bind them with red ribbon.

“No bother at all”, Margaery agreed as she collected said bundles from Sansa and begun hanging them about the apartment. She even went to the storage closet and took out the step ladder to help her in her task.

“We’re not really supposed to hang things from the ceiling. The landlord might not like it.” Brienne informed Margaery knowing full well this information would do little to sway her friend. 

“Send me the spackling bill when you and Jaime decide to get a bigger place.” Marg said unconcerned.

“But this sends the wrong message. It says kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Jaime will think I did this.” Brienne cried in flushing embarrassment. 

“Jaime will think that you, with your broken leg, went around hanging mistletoe?” Marg asked in an amused tone. “If he actually thinks that, then it’s true what they say. He got all the looks, and Tyrion got all the brains.”

“People may say that, but they’re wrong. Jaime is just as intelligent as Tyrion. Maybe even more so.” Brienne said indignant on Jaime’s behalf. 

“Way to defend your man, Brie.” Margaery guffawed in delight.

“Are you officially dating now?” Sansa asked with genuine curiosity. As usual the girl was excited by the prospect of romance.

“No. We’re just friends.” 

“Well, maybe that’s for the best." Sansa said gently. “Don’t take this the wrong way Brienne, but my mom said Jaime was bad news.”

That didn’t surprise her. The Lannisters and the Starks had been feuding for years. There was bad blood there. She wasn’t going to pretend that Jaime had always been a saint. He’d done his share of misdeeds back when he still worked to further the interests of the Lannister Empire, Casterly Rock Inc. the multibillion dollar conglomerate. There had been hostile take overs and other shady dealings. But that was in the past. Jaime had turned over a new leaf.

“I understand why your mother might think that Sansa, but she doesn’t know Jaime like I do.”

“What are you trying to tell us, Brienne?” Margaery inquired. “That he’s misunderstood? Just a bad boy with a heart of gold?”

“Well, he is a Lannisters.” She replied sheepishly. The clichés killed her. All of them.

Both Marg and Sansa erupted into giggles. For a second she was grateful she had friends who would laugh at a lame jape. Then she realized Margaery was sashaying out of the living room and down the hallway. She was headed towards the bedrooms.

“Margaery you are not allowed in Jaime’s room. We have to respect his privacy.” Brienne called after her desperately. Curse her broken leg. If she were mobile she’d barricade Jaime’s door if she had too.

“Please go stop her.” Brienne implored of Sansa. Dutiful and kind as ever, Sansa went to see if she could rein Margaery in. It was likely to be a fruitless endeavor.


	3. Jaime

“How's Brienne doing?”

“She can hardly get around even with her crutches. She's going to need a lot of help these next few weeks.” 

“And you're just the man for the job.” Tyrion snickered. “Are you going to be her hero, and tend to her every need, and feed her Christmas pudding?”

“We don't have Christmas pudding.” Jaime said clearly side-stepping his brother's innuendo. “If I go on some ski trip Brienne is just going to be sitting around by herself. Think about it, what's going to happen when Margaery and Sansa go home for the holidays? The wench will need me then.”

“I get that she needs help. I get that you want to help her. What I don't get is why you can't tell her that you're staying home specifically because you want to help her.”

“That would only complicate matters. She wouldn't want me to change my plans. She'd just keep harping on about how she didn't need any help when obviously she does.”

“Okay. So just in case she asks, I have to lie to Brienne and tell her the trip was cancelled because I had a personal emergency?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have to make up an actual emergency or does the label of ‘personal’ absolve me from further inquiry.” 

“She's not one to pry.”

“Do I also have to think of a lie to explain why you're not going to the Rock for Christmas this year?”

“No. I already told her I can't go because I've been banished and disowned.

“Oh, so you already made up a lie on your own.”

“It's not a lie. Not truly. I was disowned.”

“Like that stuck. If you showed up Tywin would consider it a Christmas miracle, I guarantee it. You'll always be his golden boy.” 

“That golden boy doesn't exist anymore.” _If he ever did._

“I guess not.” His brother concurred. “But you do know how bad it is, don't you Jaime?”

“About Cers? Yeah, I know.” 

“I mean, I think it's best that you keep your distance. I think it's healthier, better for you. I don't want you to ever go back to that. But I'm worried you'll hate me if I keep things from you.” 

“You don't have to worry. She contacted me a couple months ago. I'm aware of her situation.”

“I wasn't sure how much you knew. Father has been paying off every media outlet that will take his money to kill the story.” 

“Well, Cersei told me everything, or at least her version of it. She wanted me to come back but I just couldn't do it.”

“You mean she wanted you to take the fall for illegal shit she did years after you left.” Tyrion hissed in bitter outraged. 

Jaime didn't deny it. That had been exactly what his sister had asked of him.

“That witch.” Tyrion exclaimed furiously. “You know that wouldn't have gotten her off. There's too much evidence against her. Evidence pointing directly and specifically to her. She would've only brought you down with her.”

“Well, there's no sense raging about it now. I didn't go to her.” He remembered her desperate plea. _"Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once. "_

“But you know she's going to do time, right? Uncle Kevan cut her a sweet deal, at least considering everything she's done, but she's still serving no less than three years in Club Fed. The judge cannot be bought, and believe me father has tried.”

“She made her bed and she can lay in it without me.” Jaime said firmly. 

It gave him no pleasure to think of his sister's predicament. He could picture beautiful Cersei in an orange jump suit. She'll be so bored and restless in prison. He pitied her for that. But there was nothing he could do to help her. Besides, it just wasn't his problem anymore. He had other things to worry about. 

“So that's it?” Tyrion asked disbelieving and yet so palpably relieved.

“That's it.” Jaime affirmed. 

“Bye Felicia.” Tyrion laughed utterly gleeful. 

“No more trending pop culture references.” Jaime implored. 

“Okay. Okay. So what's the other thing you needed help with? The urgent thing we needed to do today.” 

“I need a Christmas tree.”

“You need a Christmas tree?”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to help you with that because I'm known for my ability to lift and transport pines two to three times my size?”

“What are you getting at Tyrion?”

“Didn't you think this would make me feel inadequate?”

“Don't you think this makes me feel inadequate?” Jaime asked as he waved around his right arm. He had a prosthetic on but it was mostly useless.

“Oh, so you wanted my help so that we could feel inadequate together?”

“Misery loves company.”

“I'm always here for you bro. You'll have your tree and additional accoutrements. My man Bronn can help us out.” Tyrion assured him as he waved Bronn over.

“A driver, bodyguard, and Christmas tree procurer?”

“A true Jack-of-all-trades.”

They were probably the first people to ever pull up to the tree lot in a black limo. How very Lannister of them.

“So how do we go about this?” Tyrion asked with a bit of wonderment. 

“I guess we look around until we find the best one.” 

This was a first for the both of them. Come every December at the Rock, proud 12 foot pines would line the halls and passages of the cavernous estate. Living rooms, dining rooms, bedrooms, ballrooms, and great halls were adorned with even greater pines. All trees were festooned with lights, tinsel, and lavish ornaments. None of the Lannister children had ever participated in the decoration. 

“How about this one? It's clearly the best.” Tyrion pronounced as he pointed to a 5 foot tall Cedar. It was literally the first tree they saw coming in and hardly the best.

“Nah.” Jaime said casually. “This tree has to be taller than Brienne.”

“So we're looking for something 9 feet and over.”

“Let's say 7 feet and over.”

Thus began their hour long foray into the tree lot, where all trees were mercilessly scrutinized and nitpicked until finally a champion was selected from among the rabble. A lush 8 foot tall perfectly symmetrical noble fir which had no bare patches to speak of. This was the tree he would bring home to Brienne. 

He had been feeling rather victorious until some kid recognized him. 

“Kingslayer.” The kid cheered. 

The name was an insult. The poor kid was clueless. He'd been branded the Kingslayer after besting Aerys Targaryen the Mad King at a competition. Jaime had won the gold, and Aerys had lost his life. There had been many accusations of foul play. He supposed the name had stuck for so long that younger fans were unaware of the context in which it originated. 

The kid asked if he could get a picture with him. Jaime obliged. It brought back old memories of his glory days. Back when he'd been the best. The kid even asked him where all his gold medals were. Back at home. He'd said. They were in a box under his bed.

He missed it. The snow. The cool wind against his face. The exhilaration he felt every time he went down a steep slope. He'd had some weird fantasy about inviting Brienne to join him on the ski trip. He'd had illusions of… he'd wanted Brienne there when he tried to ski again. She was an excellent skier. Olympic worthy. Perhaps she could teach him what he'd forgotten, and he could make adjustments to accommodate for the loss of his hand. He knew she'd help him if he asked. He could count on her to pick him up every time he landed head first in the snow. He could trust her not to laugh at him. 

Suddenly he was desperate to get home.


	4. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating went up just in case.

“Do you still have that weird cooking stuff you bought me a while back?” Jaime inquired offhandedly.

“You mean the adaptive kitchenware and utensils specifically designed for persons with use of just one hand?” Tyrion replied with dignity.

“Yes.”

“Oh, that weird cooking stuff. The stuff I thoughtfully bought for you over a year ago. The stuff you specifically told me you did not need.” 

“That's exactly it.” Jaime replied utterly unabashed by his brother's teasingly derisive tone.

“Yes, I still have it.” 

“Good. I need it now.”

“Why now?” His brother asked suspiciously as he texted something on his phone. 

“I have to cook now.” Jaime replied simply. Too simply.

“You're going to cook for her.” Tyrion declared with sudden and gleeful understanding.

“One of us has to. Brienne is not like to do well in the kitchen while she's still hobbling about.” 

“Oh man. It's actually going to happen. I've been waiting for it to happen. And now, it's finally going to happen.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“Yes it is. You're going to be alone, making Christmas dinner, giving each other presents, having your own private little holiday celebration. It is guaranteed to happen.” 

“She has a broken leg.” He reminded his brother. 

“You could work around that, couldn't you? Wait, I'll ask a man in the know.” Tyrion said. Before Jaime could respond the privacy partition was descending.

“Bronn, my brother and I must make an inquiry of a delicate nature. Is it possible to make love to a young lady who has a leg cast? Not a full leg cast, but a cast that ends below the knee.”

“Course.” The man asserted easily, as if Tyrion had asked if it were possible to get a cup of coffee at Starbucks. 

“Right. How would one go about it?” Tyrion further inquired. 

“She could hang the leg in the cast over the edge of the bed so you could get in there. Or you could put both her legs over your shoulders.” Bronn said in the practical yet amusingly crude manner that was characteristic of the man. “This is about the big bitch, right?” Bronn continued. “You’d want her legs up anyways. I’d go with the second option.” 

“Thank you Bronn, you've been illuminating as always.” Tyrion said as he quickly raised the partition. 

His brother looked at him half expectantly, half fearfully. Jaime did not say a word. It was too much to consider. _Fuck._ His only coherent thought was that he did not care for how Bronn had referred to Brenne. _Call her by her name. Call her Brienne._

With a bit of pre-emptive foresight Tyrion switched on the intercom. 

“Bronn, I'd like to remind you that Ms. Brienne is a very dear friend of ours. Thus, you must be respectful and refer to her by her name. You must never refer to her as ‘the big bitch’. Thank you.”


	5. Brienne

Margaery and Sansa had just left. But not before they let in Podrick Payne, a shy skinny boy still in his teens. He was one of Tyrion's personal assistants.

The boy had had to make four trips to bring up everything he'd been instructed to procure. Brienne did not question him too harshly. Almost instantly she realized that Jaime and Tyrion were behind this. 

When she inquired, Podrick nervously listed off the items he had brought; a Christmas tree stand in red, a Christmas tree skirt in red with golden embroidery, eight boxes for Christmas lights four golden and four multicolored, twelve reams of gold, red, and green tinsel, 350 ornaments, and a star for the top of the tree. 

Brienne found this excessive. 

The boy began unpacking the ornaments.

“Are they to your liking, Mrs. or Miss?” Podrick asked anxiously.

They were exquisitely made, their superb quality apparent on sight. Brienne's eyes were treated to all kinds of jewel encrusted bobbles, crystal angels, and silver bells. The myriad of ornamental delights was seemingly endless, there were gingerbread men and snowmen, rocking horses and reindeer, candy canes and peppermints, and a variety of Santa Claus figurines ready to be hung on a tree. 

“They are very beautiful.” She exclaimed.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Podrick said in relief. “They were the best I could find on such short notice.” 

She was about to text Jaime to let him know his Christmas decorations had arrived when from the window she spied a limo with a Christmas tree attached to the roof. _Seriously?_

Jaime, Tyrion, and Bronn came out of the vehicle. Before she knew it the three men were in the living room and they had brought the tree with them.

“Brienne.” Tyrion greeted her warmly. “I was so sorry to hear about your leg.”

“It was unfortunate but I'm managing.” She said self-consciously. She wanted to ask Tyrion about the now cancelled ski trip but refrained, as if asking would somehow make it un-cancelled. 

“Pod, I see you've brought all that was asked of you. Good job, lad.” Tyrion praised his assistant as he surveyed the many items Podrick had obtained. “All additional accoutrements are here as promised.” Tyrion informed Jaime.

“Thank you.” Jaime said to his brother. He was smiling. 

“We have a tree.” Jaime announced to her. “Where should we put it?” He asked specifically to her.

As she looked around for a good spot she kept seeing the mistletoe. She knew Jaime had noticed it too. She'd expected him to laugh but he hadn't. 

“How about in the corner by the fireplace?” She suggested. It seemed like the most sensible place to put it. 

“You heard the lady.” Tyrion said. 

Jaime, Pod, and Bronn awkwardly went about the business of setting the tree on the stand while Tyrion directed them. She would have helped had it not been for her leg.

“What do you think?” Jaime asked her when they were done. It was such a handsome tree. 

“It's very nice. But maybe too big.” She replied. She rarely ever found anything too big. It was almost a treat.

“A big tree is more festive.” Jaime said. “You would have probably made me get Charlie Brown's Christmas tree had you come with us.” He teased. 

“I would have not.” She defended herself.

“Speaking of Charlie Brown's Christmas tree, I should give you your present Brienne. I won't see you again until after the holidays.” Tyrion said unexpectedly. He produced a thin rectangular gift from his coat pocket. 

“Thank you.” She replied as she took the package and unwrap it. It was an iPad. 

“It has A Charlie Brown Christmas on it.” Tyrion added sweetly.

“This is too much.” She said truly touched.

“Don't feel too special.” Jaime interjected. “He's been giving them away like hot pies. Everybody wants an iPad. So he just has a bunch to hand out. That way he doesn't have to put any thought into gift giving.” 

“I didn't give you an iPad this year, brother.” Tyrion reminded Jaime under his breath. 

“This is a very thoughtful gift.” She informed Jaime. “Especially considering I have to sit around all day. This will keep me entertained.” 

Jaime gave her a playfully defiant look. _“I'll keep you plenty entertained, wench.”_ He threatened.

“I really do appreciate it, Tyrion. I have a gift for you too, but it's modest in comparison and I haven't had time to wrap it yet.”

“She got you an old book.” Jaime told his brother gracelessly. If he had been in reach she would have smacked him.

“The Dawn of Days: A History.” Tyrion declared in uncontaminated excitement. “It's been out of print for decades. I've been dying to get my hands on it.”

“I was able to track down a copy in Tarth.” She said bashfully. Tyrion had mentioned the book several times and she remembered having once come across the title in a used bookstore back home. 

“You wondrous girl.” Tyrion exclaimed and kissed her on the cheek. “I am humbled. Yours is truly the more thoughtful and greater gift. You have my deepest gratitude.”

Jaime handed the book to his brother without ceremony. 

“I hope you put as much thought into my present.” Jaime needled her.

“Oh Brother.” Tyrion said face palming. “I happen to know that Brienne did put a great deal of thought into your gift, but unlike you I’m not going to ruin the surprise.” That gave her much needed reassurance. She could still give Jaime her gift even if the trip had been cancelled. Tyrion had thought it was a good idea.

Another of Tyrion's assistants came to the door then. It was a young man only slightly older than Podrick. He carried a large box.

“Peck, I see you have brought Jaime's present.” Tyrion proclaimed.

“The Kitchenaid ultra power stand mixer in red. I am also re-giving him all the ‘weird’ cooking stuff I bought him ages ago since he has finally decided to use it. May it prove useful during his culinary pursuits.” Tyrion said to the room.

“You are too kind by half my dear brother." Jaime declared. "Too bad you and your assistants must be heading home now.” 

“Let’s get going.” Tyrion said taking his cue like a good little brother. Pod and Peck followed Tyrion directly but Bronn hung back. 

“How’s your leg? Does it hurt when you bend at the knee?” Bronn asked her.

“I can bend it fine.” She replied.

“You should be all set then.” Bronn told Jaime. 

What did that mean? She looked quizzically at Jaime. 

“Goodnight Tyrion and company. Thanks for all your help.” Jaime said acerbically in final dismissal. 

“Should we load your brother’s bags and ski gear now since we’re here?” Peck asked Tyrion. Jaime clapped a hand over his eyes.

“My dear boy clearly you are confused.” Tyrion said at once. “The ski trip was obviously cancelled due to a personal emergency I had which I must attend to immediately. Come, let us leave my brother and his lady to their mistletoe.” She was instantly red at that. She could feel it. 

Their exit was mercifully quick as Tyrion lead them out and immediately closed the door behind them. Only she and Jaime remained. Inexplicably she felt nervous as his emerald gaze ran over her.

Through the door she heard Peck say that he didn't know the trip had been cancelled. Podrick then asked if she was Jaime's wife. That only made her redder.


	6. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update. People might be over the Christmas stuff by now, but I'll keep posting just the same. I have a few more chapters planned. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to thank all my readers. Double thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos.

The night before she had helped Jaime decorated the tree. She would choose an ornament and he would hang it. Multiple times he had run into snags, especially with the lights, but he managed and usually with minimal cursing. The end result had been incredible. The tree was breathtaking, a beautiful glowing beacon of holiday cheer. 

She and Jaime had also agreed upon a menu for Christmas dinner. Jaime had gone out early that morning to get the needed groceries. In the meantime Sansa and Margaery had stopped by for a quick visit. The girls were each headed home for the holidays. As was tradition, they all exchanged gifts and opened them together. 

Sansa had given her a bath and body set. Among many lovely toiletries was a self-lubricating lady shaver. This was convenient. Showers had become very shaky for her with her broken leg. Nowadays it was easier to shave while she sat on her bed. 

Margery had given her a white chemise. It was simple and not too girly. This gift was the reason Brienne now stood in front of the mirror balancing on her good leg, her crutches resting against the wall. 

Remarkably and unprecedentedly the chemise suited her. It had a flattering cut that gave her more of a woman’s shape. The hem reached the tops of her thighs, displaying her long legs in an almost provocative manner. Or at least it would have been provocative had the effect not been ruined by her cast. Simply put, the garment worked with her height. She found this miraculous.

The sound of Jaime coming through the door put an end to her mirror gazing. She felt silly. She was ugly, huge, and mannish. No chemise could change that. 

She threw on pajama pants and a sweater and made her way to the kitchen.

“I got everything.” He announced. “It took forever.” 

Brienne settled herself by the kitchen table as Jaime carried in bags and bags of food. Last night he had set up two cooking stations; one at the table and one in the kitchen. The two of them had also watched several cooking videos on YouTube and had accordingly formulated a game plan. 

She decided to explore her iPad while Jaime began the preparations. There were several films, games, and songs loaded on it. It had A Charlie Brown Christmas, just as Tyrion promised. But it also had pictures. Pictures of Jaime. These were childhood photographs, yearbook photos, graduation pictures, and vacation snapshots among other things. 

Tyrion had left a note. Thought these might be fun. 

She didn’t know if fun was the right word. She flipped through them eagerly, desperately. She absolutely drank them up, all the while fearful that their subject would discover her poring over his image. 

Jaime had been wrong. Tyrion’s gift hadn’t been thoughtless. He’d known exactly what she wanted. 

She came across a picture of the Lannister boys with their father. He seemed a stern man, cold but regal. It gave her a brief moment of melancholy. She missed her own father. She missed Tarth. She hadn’t been back since before Aegon hit. Her heart went out to everyone who had been affected. 

Selfishly she thought of her sailboat now in shambles. She had wanted to see the state of it for herself. Her father had promised it was salvageable. She hoped that was the case. From the pictures alone she knew she would have to replace the sail. 

Next she came across a picture of Jaime in his Olympic gear. He’d been perfect then, flawless and untouchable, the greatest skier alive. His maiming had been monstrously cruel, though ultimately his lack of a hand had not lessened him. In truth, she preferred the man he had become. The loss of his physical prowess had forced him to further develop his other faculties. He was altogether a more thoughtful person now. 

What an insufferable, arrogant, jeering rogue he had been, she remembered with a wry smile. She’d hated him and he’d thought very little of her. How drastically her opinion had changed.

“What’s so fascinating?” Jaime asked from the kitchen.

You. She could tell him. 

“Nothing.” She said as she quickly turned off the iPad. 

She began checking her phone. A ruse meant to make herself appear busy. 

She did have some texts from Margery. 

Marg: Guess what.

Marg: Tyrion and Daven are currently at the Vale. 

Marg: The ski trip was NOT cancelled. 

Marg: Here’s proof. Attached was a drunken selfie of Tyrion at the ski lodge. 

Marg: Jaime stayed back just for you. 

Marg: Told you so.

Marg: Give him a big kiss under the mistletoe to say thanks. 

Her heart was pounding. She was simultaneously furious and ecstatic. How could he have missed his trip? She had wanted him to go. _Had Jaime really stayed just for her?_

He was now using the KitchenAid Tyrion had given him to make gingerbread. He would bring the dough over to her at any moment.

Frantically she pondered the situation. Should she confront him or just let it go?

She was rolling the dough by the time she decided. “I know Tyrion still went skiing.” She blurted out.

Jaime shrugged. 

“How could you miss your trip?” She demanded. 

“Didn’t want to go.”

“But why?”

“Tyrion invited too many people. First it was just me, him, and Daven. Then Bronn and Pod were coming too. Then Peck and Pia. The next thing I know Gatehouse Ami and a bunch of Freys were tagging along. That’s not my scene.” 

She couldn’t believe this. She had specifically told Tyrion not to invite other people. How was Jaime supposed to practice with such an audience? Worst of all, how could she have let herself believe what Margaery had said? She knew better. 

She hated the searing disappointment that had bloomed in her chest. He only thinks of you as a friend. She reminded herself. 

“Why are you so upset?” Jaime asked and snatched her phone up from the table.

“Don’t!” She cried but it was too late. He was already reading Margaery’s texts. She could feel her eyes prickling with tears. She willed herself to shut out the pain and embarrassment. Crying would not help her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your phone.” He said softly as he slid it back to her. “But she’s right, you know. I did stay _just for you_.” He emphasized the last three words. “Tyrion didn’t invite all those people until after I told him I wasn’t going.”

“But you didn’t have to stay.”

“Yes, I did. If I’d gone, you’d be here all by yourself. There’d be no tree, no lights, and no dinner.” There’d be no Jaime, her mind added despite herself. 

“Face it wench, I’m the one standing between you and a sad missed holiday. I’m your Christmas miracle.” He informed her injecting some much needed levity into the situation. 

“You conceited jerk.” She laughed before burying her face in her palms. Just let it go Brienne, she told herself. Let go of the false hope. Be grateful for what you have. It’s enough. It’s more than you ever thought you would get.

“See. You’re blushing because you know it’s true.”

“I’m red because I’m embarrassed for you. What kind of person describes themselves as a miracle?”

“I do. I’m that good.” He bragged while absolutely beaming. He really was. She felt a jolt of electric joy chase off all her woe and discomfort. This really was enough. His friendship meant the world to her.

“Marg mentioned a kiss.” He reminded her. _Dammit. Dammit. Dammit._ He’s just japing, she told herself suddenly wanting to hide. _Kissing her would be a jape._

“Not currently under the mistletoe.” She pointed out. 

The technicality did not save her though. The nearest bundle hung about three feet away. Jaime pushed her chair right under it.

“Jaime.” She protested utterly alarmed. He paid no heed.

“We’re both under it now.” He said as he leaned over her. “Isn’t that the point of the mistletoe? For me to kiss you under it?”

She couldn’t think of an appropriate response. She could only gaze up at him in expectant longing. Her heart had betrayed her. _Yes. Kiss me. Kiss me._ It begged.

“Your eyes are so blue.” He told her before his lips met hers.

His kiss was soft at first, and sweet, so sweet. Jaime’s lips caressed hers, gently persuading her to open herself to him. She did, readily. She required little coaxing now for all thoughts of self-restraint had left her. She was willing to let herself have this. She had no choice really. Desire had taken over. When his tongue slipped into her mouth she welcomed it with delight. Novice though she may be, she threw herself into their kiss, giving him everything she had. All the wanting she had kept caged within herself was set free, if only for a brief moment. 

Jaime moaned against her lips. She ate it up. She was intoxicated by the feel of him, the taste of him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had savoured something so thoroughly. 

Minutes later they pulled apart gasping. Reality slowly starting to set in. She was sure the kiss was over only to have Jaime come back for more. She hadn’t expected that, but couldn’t resist. His lips were so insistent. They slipped into another bout of heated kissing. 

It was like they were on some loop. Jaime kept kissing her and she kept kissing him back. But the longer it went on the more she began to doubt herself. What did this mean? She couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around it.

And that was the crux of the matter. Her abandon had been unsustainable. Every inhibition had inevitably returned, every insecurity had crept back in, and she was being devoured by a hungry lion. What would be left of her if she allowed that? 

She stopped him with both hands firm on his shoulders. Still he attempted to dip back in and claim her lips. She held fast. 

“Jaime, the dough will get hard if we just leave it out.” She reminded him. 

“That’s hardly the only thing that’s been getting hard.” He informed her.

She didn’t know if he was kidding. 

“We should focus on the cooking.” She said refusing to engage in innuendo. It was too much for her right now. 

“Alright.” He breathily agreed. 

He helped her push her chair back to where it had been and sat down next to her at the table. Both of them awkwardly sinking their cookie cutters into the gingerbread as they tried to calm down.


	7. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. I had the worst writer's block.

Dinner was set for nine o’clock. After hours of cooking they had both individually retired to their rooms to clean up. As always she didn’t know what to do with herself, and to make matters worse, a call from Selwyn had slowed her down considerably. She was happy to hear from her father, but knew Jaime would be ready before her now. 

She brushed her teeth and washed her face, and honestly considered trying on makeup for a solid second. She even shaved her legs for no reason. 

This was much more stressful than it had to be. It was just the two of them. She had assumed that meant they were going to keep things casual. They lounged about in sweats and pyjamas all the time, Jaime more than anyone. But no, he had announced he was dressing for dinner. This left her no choice but to wear the navy blue pantsuit she had intended to wear to her father’s house. It would have been fine had she not had to roll up one pant leg over her purple cast. 

In a last-ditch effort to make herself look somewhat presentable she frantically ran a comb through her always messy hair for the fourth and last time. After that she forced herself to vacate the bathroom, flat out refusing to take another glance at herself in the mirror. 

She found Jaime waiting by the hearth. His grand Christmas tree stood to his side glowing brightly. He had set the table in her absence and brought over all the dishes they had prepared. He had even lit candles.

It was like something out of a movie. Everything looked amazing. But the most striking part of the scene was the man himself. Jaime wore a red fitted dress shirt and gray slacks. He was freshly shaven. Despite having grown overly fond of his beard, she had to admit the clean-cut look made him appear even more unreasonably handsome. That shouldn’t have been possible. 

“Blue is a good color on you, my lady.” He greeted. He seemed oddly sincere. That threw her. She’d been expecting a jape about how she looked like some lady politician.

He pulled out a chair for her, inviting her to join him for their Christmas feast. 

_This isn’t a date._ She reminded herself as she sat down gracelessly, resting her crutches against the wall. She couldn’t help but watch a little too closely as he took his own seat. 

Jaime grinned at her from across the table and moved to pour them some wine. 

“I can’t have much.” She informed him. “It might not go well with my pain medication.” 

“Just a glass then. To take the edge off.” He offered as the red liquid filled her cup. 

She’d been out of sorts since he’d kissed her, she admitted as she took a large gulp. It had been four days since. He hadn’t tried it again. Instead, they’d spent their time cooking, eating, and watching movies on her iPad. It’d been a lovely time. Still, her heart insisted on yearning for things not meant for someone like her. _She’d never be able to keep him._

At odd moments she would recall the feel of his lips on hers and curse herself for stopping his kisses. _Jaime might not ever kiss her again._ But that was too painful a prospect. She pushed the thought away, turning her attention to the meal before her. 

They had done an impressive job both on the cooking and the presentation of the food. Better than she would have guessed. Everything looked delicious. The small turkey was particularly mouth watering. It was the perfect size for the two of them. Not too big. Although, they’d still have leftovers for days. 

She did the carving.

“Do you want breast, leg, or thigh?” She asked, too slow to realize her mistake until after the words had left her mouth.

“All three.” He answered suggestively, eyeing her as if she were on the menu. She could feel the crimson glow suddenly burning in her cheeks. 

“Choose one to start with.” She said flatly. 

“Alright. I’ll start with the breast.” 

She could feel the crimson creep down her neck. Foolishly, some part of her enjoyed it when he made such comments. It made her feel as if she were something to be desired, as if he could actually want her. 

She gave him a nice piece of turkey breast covered in dark crispy skin. Internally, she wondered if she should offer to cut his meat but knew better. He would hate that. This had always been a delicate subject. When she cooked she had gotten into the habit of preparing dishes that could be eaten without a knife. 

“Right.” Jaime said looking down at his plate. “Tyrion got me this thing.” He quickly retrieved a cutting utensil from the kitchen. It was a small circular grid perpendicularly attached to a wooden handle. The grid was about four inches in diameter and sharp as a knife. Effortlessly, Jaime sank the device into the turkey on his plate, effectively cutting the slice into small bite size pieces. 

She beamed at him. It was a splendid solution. 

“So were you talking to your dad?” Jaime asked as he passed her the stuffing. 

“Yes. He called to wish me a Merry Christmas.” 

“Did you tell him you wouldn’t be alone? That I’m here with you?”

She hadn’t. Not exactly. 

“He doesn’t even know I exist, does he?” Jaime exclaimed indignantly. 

“He knows I have a roommate named Jaime.” 

“One he assumes is female?”

“We never discussed it.”

“Today would have been the perfect opportunity.” 

“It didn’t come up.”

“Really? He didn’t ask how you were and what you were doing?”

“He did, but…”

“But you gave the vaguest answer you could think of because you deliberately did not want to mention me?”

“Haha. I don’t bug you about what you tell your family.”

“You bug me about all kinds of things.”

“Have you spoken to any of them recently?”

“Don’t change the subject, wench. Why are you always trying to shut me out?”

“My name is _Brienne_ and I am doing nothing of the sort.”

“You are.” He accused. “Why have you been acting so weird?” 

She flushed. He grinned.

“You’ve been acting weird for days _Brienne_.”

“Because you kissed me.” 

He raised a golden eyebrow at her. “Even before then.”

She didn’t know what he meant. 

“Why didn’t you call me when you were hurt?” 

Oh… that. She shrugged awkwardly. 

“Even after everything we’ve been through? I mean… I stood between you and a fucking bear once. Remember? You’d think that would have made an impact.” It had. In ways he wasn’t aware of and she didn’t particularly want to admit. “You’d think I’d be someone you could count on.” She counted on him too much as it was. “I should have been the one you called.” He insisted ruefully. “I should have gone to the hospital with you. Your cast should be blue.”

“Why blue?” She asked truly perplexed by the non sequitur. 

“To match your eyes, obviously. Purple is not your color, Brienne. It’s almost as bad as pink.” Well great, she thought. Regretting her stupid cast for the hundredth time that day. “If I had been there, I could have told you that. But no, instead of getting a call from you, I get a text from Miss Teen Magazine telling me all about it hours later.” 

“Jaime, I wanted to call you. I did.” She had wanted him so badly. The moment she had hit the sidewalk, she had screamed for him. But when she had her phone in hand, it was not his number she had dialed. She honestly couldn’t explain why. Other than perhaps she had been terrified of needing him that much. 

“You were there for me when I lost my hand. You took care of me. I’d do the same for you.” _Did he feel he owed her something?_ That would explain so much.

“Jaime.” She said pleadingly, her hand reaching for his but stopping short. 

He caught it before she could retreat and held it tight, locking his fingers with hers. 

“I want to be the first person you call when something happens.” 

“Next time you will be.” She promised. She could do that. If that was what he wanted. “But Jaime you know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“Do what?” He demanded. 

“All this.” She said gesturing to the room, the food. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Seriously Brienne?” He said outraged, while obstinately refusing to let go of her hand even when she tried to pull away. “Our dinner is going to get cold because you won’t stop acting weird.” 

“All I’m saying is that if you leave tonight you could make it home by morning. You don’t have to stay.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you want to get rid of me?”

“You know that's not the case. I just don’t want you to be away from your family on my account. You’re missing Christmas.”

“This is _my_ Christmas. Here. With you.” He informed her matter-of-factly. “I have no interest in returning to the Rock. If you had gone back to Tarth, I’d be by myself.”

She could hear her own sharp intake of breath. 

“I didn’t know Jaime. I figured deep down you’d rather be with them.”

“Then you’re awful at reading people, wench.” He said while caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. “Don’t you like this?” He asked. Then he cringed. “Not the broken leg part just…”

“This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years.” She blurted out, feeling the full truth of her words upon hearing them.

“I told you I was your Christmas Miracle.” He baited. 

“You wish.” She bit back, refusing to admit defeat but knowing he was probably right. 

They went on to have the best meal she’d ever tasted. 

_

As the evening wind down they watched A Charlie Brown Christmas on the couch. Before she knew it she was bundled up with Jaime under a blanket. That’s how she fell asleep and did not stir until hours later when the pain of her leg woke her. She hadn’t taken her nighttime pain medication. 

The room was mostly dark. The fire had died down and Jaime had turned off all the lights, excluding the tree lights. She knew her crutches were off to her side, and could just make them out. She wondered if she could get to her room, get her meds, and sneak back without making a sound. Not likely, lumbering beast that she was. 

She did not want to wake Jaime. Not for selfless reasons either. She wanted to remain close to him, like this, for as long as she could. He felt wonderful with his arms around her. But the pain of her leg made her squirm. He woke. Partly. 

“Go back to sleep.” He murmured drowsily against her neck. He kissed there.

“I… My…” She stumbled over her words.

“Fuck. You didn’t take your pain meds.” He said suddenly fully awake. “I’ll get them.”

“They’re the ones in the big bottle on the dresser by my bed.”

“I know. I know.” He hushed her. He was back quick enough, carrying the bottle in the crook of his arm while he held a glass of water in his hand. 

“Thank you.” She said before popping two pills in her mouth and swallowing fast. “They’ll take effect in less than ten minutes. They’re strong, but make me super sleepy. I can only take them at night.” They made her feel super loopy too. 

“How bad does it hurt?” He asked as he took his place beside her, wrapping his arms around her again.

“Not too bad.” She downplayed. Honestly, she was too delighted by the contact to care about her dumb leg. 

“It’s bad. I can tell.” He said and held her tighter. 

“I shouldn’t think about it. The more I think about it, the more it hurts.” 

“I’ll distract you then.” He vowed and kissed her. It was like the time under the mistletoe. Hot. On the mouth. Hungry. With tongue. She kissed back. Just as starved. Their breathing grew heavy, to the point of panting. 

“We’re good here, right?” He asked between kisses. “You’re comfortable on the couch?” He kissed her again. Deep. The sound of their lips smacking together seemed loud to her. She liked it. “Or we could go lay down on my bed…” He added. 

She felt almost drunk. But in a good way. She felt high. Was this actually happening? Or was she dreaming?

“Your bed?” She asked and sucked on his bottom lip before giving him the chance to answer.

“Yes. You should be in my bed.” He hissed, suddenly bucking up against her. She felt him. Rock hard. She wanted to touch him there but didn’t know how. 

“You should be in my bed.” She heard herself echo. 

“I’m dying to be in your bed.” He confessed and kissed all down her neck.

“That feels so good, Jaime.” She exclaimed, whimpering. Her body ached for him, but her mind was spinning away. The need to close her eyes was so strong.

“There are lots of ways for me to make you feel good.” His voice was all gravelly. He licked up her neck. 

That was a very interesting prospect. It did not deserve a yawn in response. But that’s what it got. Damn her nighttime meds. 

“It’s my… they make me so sleepy.”

“Shhh. It doesn’t have to be now. Just whenever you want.” He said softly.

“I want to, Jaime. I want you so much.” She thought as she drifted off.


	8. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now seasonally appropriate again.
> 
> Brienne breaks her leg before the holidays and is forced to cancel her plans. She expects to spend Christmas alone. Jaime isn't having any of that.

The next morning Jaime woke to find Brienne unceremoniously extricating herself from his sleepy embrace. Even when he clasped her in a bear hug she skillfully tossed him off. Ignoring his every protestation, she remained doggedly determined that she should return to her room, crutches and all. He leapt into pursuit, ready to snatch up the big wench, when his phone rang unexpectedly. At that, Brienne halted mid-escape and insisted he answer it. 

“It’s Christmas morning, Jaime. Your family probably wishes to give you season’s greetings.” 

She is such an innocent, he thought as he ruefully retrieved his phone and eyed his caller I.D. With relief he found it was Tyrion. One of the Lannisters he was not irrevocably estranged from. Though he had a thing or two to say to his little brother.

“Merry Christmas, bro.” Tyrion greeted cheerily. 

“Merry Christmas, yourself.” He grumbled as he watched Brienne disappear into her bedroom. 

“Why so salty?” His brother queried unperturbed. “Did you manage to ruin your romantic holiday already?”

“No. But you nearly did.” 

“Me? What have I done? Aside from being an absolute sweetling and helping you out with all your Christmassy needs.”

“You, my brother, have lacked discretion.”

“A lie.” Tyrion denied vehemently. “I’ll have you know that for years I’ve been the very essence of discretion, cloaking all manner of unsavory family secrets.”

“Yet this self-professed discretion of yours took a back seat to photo-whoring at the Vale. Not a day had gone by before Brienne found out you were holding court atop the damn Eyrie.”

“Oh that.” Tyrion dismissed unabashedly. “I can hardly be held responsible for the selfies I take and/or upload while I’m drunk. Besides, I really didn’t think Brienne was tapped into social media.” 

“She’s not. She hates it. But apparently Margaery Tyrell is all about it. She took it upon herself to send Brienne photographic evidence that the ski trip had in fact not been cancelled.” 

Tyrion laughed uproariously at that. “How did Brienne take the news? Was she pissed?” 

“She wasn’t pleased. She had harped on about that damn trip for ages.”

“Poor girl.” Tyrion sighed.

“Why’s that?” Jaime asked his suspicion peaked. 

“Well, she just broke her leg… and she’s dating a rascal who wasn’t upfront about wanting to stay with her while she was injured.”

“Technically, we’re not dating.” He pointed out. The fact annoyed him. The pig-stubborn wench was still running, despite having just admitted to wanting him. And even that she only did while medicated. 

“Please. You’re practically married.” Tyrion said dismissively. “I’ve long since thought of Brienne as my good sister.”

Jaime laughed, envisioning how red Brienne would get if she ever found out. 

“You’re so in, man. If her friends are texting her about you, you’re in. You just need to make a move.”

“I have made several.”

“Oh?” Tyrion encouraged. 

“I kissed her under the mistletoe a couple days ago. It was amazing. We just went at each other. But then she shut it down. I kissed her again last night. We ended up making out for a little bit. I loved it. She did too. She slept in my arms all night. Yet this morning she was just as quick to shut everything down again.”

“Two is not several.” Tyrion reminded him. “You’ve made two moves on a shy girl with no romantic experience whatsoever. What did you expect? That it would be easy? It doesn’t even sound like she outright rejected you. It sounds like she reciprocated and then got scared.” 

“So she’s scared.” He huffed. “What am I supposed to do, give her space?” The thought made him want to throw stuff.

“NO!” Tyrion exclaimed exasperated. “That would be the worst thing. That would break her heart.”

“So I’m either scaring her or breaking her heart?” He hissed. 

“You know what your problem is, Jaime? You have no perspective. Prior to this you’ve wasted all your charms on our criminally insane shrew of a…”

“Don’t go there, Tyrion.” He advised. He did not want to hear about their bad sister. 

“You have to admit, you don’t have much experience wooing a nice girl. You’ve only ever been with one woman and she’s the devil. Speaking of which, you can’t imagine how bat-shit she’s gotten.” Tyrion slipped in delightedly. “Things are _C-R-A-Z-Y_ over here. It’s fantastic. But in an absolutely terrifying sense.”

“I want to talk about Brienne.” He protested. 

“Okay. Okay.” Tyrion agreed, getting back on topic. “It’s normal for a girl like Brienne to hold you off for a bit. She’s only protecting herself. You have to make her realize that she can trust you.”

“She knows she can trust me. I’ve proven that.” He stated defensively.

“You’ve proven she can trust you as her friend. Now prove she can trust you as her lover. Just keep showing her how much you love her, how much you really want her. Seduce her. Let her know that you’re always going to be there for her. She’ll come around. Trust me. The girl is nuts about you.” 

That sounded right. He needed that to be right.

“Just one more thing, Jaime.” His brother added.

“What’s that?” He indulged.

“Ankle bracelet. The kind that beeps and alerts the authorities if you wonder off the premises. Crazy has to wear one now,” Tyrion barely got out before bursting into gleeful laughter.

“Lord Tywin must be appalled.” He responded despite himself. 

“He is, but he’s pretending nothing is amiss, which actually makes it even better in a sense. It’s the best train wreck ever. I’m almost sad you’re not here to share in the spectacle. But I guess you have much better things to do.” He certainly did.

“I do have to wonder though, what’s it like spending Christmas with someone who loves you?”

The question caught him off-guard. “It’s even better than any sappy holiday movie would have you believe.” He answered without much forethought. 

“It’s lucky Brienne broke her leg then.” Tyrion provoked mischievously. “Are you sure you didn’t happen to water the sidewalk the morning of her fall?”

“Such schemes are not my style.” He replied with begrudging amusement. “Unlike some would have you believe, I am actually not a psychopath.” 

“Twas only a little jape, my dear big brother,” Tyrion said innocently.

“Merry Christmas, Tyrion.” 

“Merry Christmas, Jaime." 

_

Brienne was predictably scandalized when he strolled into her bathroom not five minutes later. He had neglected to wear a shirt. He enjoyed watching her fierce protestations quickly turn to crimson cheeks and adverted eyes. 

“I have to take a shower, Jaime.” She informed him blushingly, every bit the shy maid. Yet ever so often she would take a peek. 

_Fucking look at me, Brienne._ He wanted to say. Her gaze upon his body was a welcomed caress. Everything about her gave away the truth of her words from last night. She did want him. So much. Just like she’d said. That had him purring.

 _Fuck._ He wanted her too. She had put on some short white nightgown. With nothing underneath, he’d wager. His pulse quickened dramatically at the thought. He’d never seen her wear anything of the sort before. _What would it be like to pull that nightgown off her strong shoulders and take one of her small pert buds into his mouth?_ He bit his lip, trying to keep it together. 

“I really do have to shower.” She insisted as if he hadn’t heard her the first time.

Ignoring the hint, he watched her curiously as she placed her left leg inside a long clear plastic bag and tied it tight over her cast.

“So water won’t get in.” She explained. 

“Aren’t you worried you might slip and injure yourself further?” He asked, his concern genuine though hardly his only motivation for asking. 

“I’ve managed fine so far.”

“Doubt it. I’ve heard you clunking around. I bet you’ve almost fallen before and more than once. Why risk it?”

“What should I do? Not shower for a month?”

“Nothing so drastic. But I should join you.” 

“Jaime!” She practically screeched. He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“It won’t even be the first time we’ve bathed together.” He reminded her innocently. “We’ve already seen each other. What’s the big deal?” 

“That was different.” She sputtered. “You…”

“It wasn’t so different. I was injured and you helped me out.” He waved his stump as if she needed reminding. She didn’t flinch. She never had.

“Okay.” She agreed shyly. “You can help me if you want.”

His mouth watered at the prospect. His entire body was on edge. Just aching for her. He noticed himself in the mirror. His cock, painfully hard now, looked obscene the way it jutted out. There was no hope in trying to hide it. So he didn’t bother. Instead, he rid himself of his pyjama pants. Bearing himself completely. Taking pride in how big he looked. Hoping the sight of him would make her wet. 

Her eyes ran down his body, lingering on his manhood for just a second. Her breath hitched. Then she looked away, her sweet blushes turning a deeper shade. But she said nothing. Apparently they were just going to pretend he didn’t have a massive hard-on. He went with it. Whatever made her more comfortable. Whatever increased his chances of getting her into the shower and from there into bed. 

Luckily, she required no prodding to undress. She hesitantly followed suit. Lifting the nightgown up over her body and slowly pulling the garment off. 

She was such a tall woman. There was just so much to see. Pink nipples that had pebbled deliciously. Legs that went on for miles. Best of all was the blonde thicket between her legs. It took everything he had not to drop to his knees and get a taste. _Fuck._ He wanted to kiss her there. He wanted to kiss everywhere. The wench was huge, powerful, and covered in a galaxy of freckles. All of that pleased him. Most would think her ugly to be sure. He had, save for her unbearably beautiful eyes. Still, she’d always made him hard. Even before he’d been willing to admit it. Now she was making his ridiculously swollen cock twitch desperately while the tip wept. 

“Are we going to do this?” She snapped at him, possibly vexed by his ogling. She was looking anywhere but at his cock, while he regarded her cunt the way a particularly ravenous lion would gaze at his next meal.

“We are _so_ going to do this.” He assured her as he helped her into the tub. 

He stood behind her as she carefully positioned herself in front of the showerhead and turned the water on. The wench seemed stable enough, but it only took her turning to grasp the soap to cause her to slip. 

He caught her with arms tight around her thick waist. 

“I told you showers were too dangerous by yourself.” He chided.

Brienne nodded in agreement and leaned back into him. His aching cock fitting nicely against her firm, round backside. 

Her neck was at mouth level. She had freckles there too. She had freckles all down her shoulders and back. Hundreds of them. It was too much. He was raining down sloppy, open-mouth kisses all over them before he knew what he was doing. He found it odd that he had ever disliked freckles. That didn’t make sense to him now. How could he not have fancied them? They were so sweet. Freckles were meant for kissing, he decided. 

She turned in his arms only to almost slip again, though he was holding her tightly. 

“I think showers are too dangerous for me right now, regardless of whether I have company or not.” She said shakily. 

“A bath instead?” He suggested.

They sunk down together. He remained wrapped about her, even after they were seated. Then she swung her left leg over the tub’s edge and turned the faucet on, letting the tub fill. 

“I can’t submerge my leg.” Brienne explained. But he hardly cared why she’d done it. All he could think was that she was spread now. 

He turned her face towards him and took her mouth, thrusting his tongue in wantonly. Kissing hard and desperate before letting her return the fervor. Her kisses were fierce yet impossibly tender somehow. He’d never get enough.

His hand suddenly flew to the soap and picked up some lathered. Then he was caressing her teats under the thin guise of washing them. Soon enough he was playing with one nipple and then the other, as she gasped and moaned against his hungry mouth. 

His eager hand slid down her toned belly and then further still. But he hardly even got to touch her blonde curls before she was slapping him away.

“You do it yourself then.” He laughed, amused that her girlish modesty would find her now after she’d been letting him have so much fun playing with her little teats. 

“Don’t look.” She warned as she collected the soap’s lather on her own hand.

“But I want to.” He breathed against her ear. “I want to see you touching yourself.” Her hand dipped underneath the water. “Don’t you want me to touch you there?” He asked softly. Loving the sight of her hand between her thighs. “I’m going to make it so good, Brienne.” He promised and licked the shell of her ear for a bit of emphasis. 

“Jaime, I’ve never done this before.” She confessed nervously. Her breath heavy. 

“I know.” He whispered as he gently scooted her back in the tub. She made a startled sound but did not stop him. He then climbed out of the tub and hopped right back in, this time taking his rightful place between her spread legs.

The sight of her pink folds was enticing beyond belief. He hadn’t been prepared. He fought manfully against the instinct to take her there and then. If they’d already been fucking, like they should’ve been, he would’ve hoisted her long legs up over his shoulders and ... Just looking at her made him want to come. He drank her in for a few seconds more before it just became too much. He wanted her now. NOW. He was suddenly grabbing her, kissing her, sucking on her bottom lip as his hand slipped between her spread thighs. When she didn’t push him away he began fondling her sweet cunt, his fingers finding her precious nub and stroking her in quick circles. 

“Let me touch you.” He begged against her full mouth. “I want to make you come. Please, Brienne? _Please_.”

“Yes.” She cried loudly as she bucked into his hand and buried her fingers into his hair. She was pulling him close, taking him into her arms. 

“Fuck YES,” he hissed as he moved on top of her, forcing her to lie back in the tub. Her left leg still hung over the tub’s edge while he hitched the right over his waist. His hand returned to rub her frantically. “Feel good?” He asked when she let out a sharp moan. “Tell me you like it.” He demanded. She made a sound of unmistakable pleasure instead. 

Not able to restrain himself he took his cock in hand and ran the head across her folds. Brienne raised her hips to meet his stroke as if she were inviting him in. He thought he would spill. She was so wet, she had surely raised the waterline of the tub. You’d think he wouldn’t be able to tell, but he could. She was so much hotter and slicker than the bathwater. 

They kissed each again. Their tongues sliding together as he treated himself to her sublime warmth. It was delicious beyond compare. He would make several long torturous swipes and then tease her nub wildly with his tip. Brienne would gasp every time. Her bright blue eyes wide. Her cheeks so pink. He greedily took a teat into his mouth and made her whine in pleasure. He couldn’t get over how tempting her little teats were. He was an utter fool for not having pursued this sooner. 

“Do you know how good this is for me?” He panted as he pleasured the both of them. “How badly you make me want to...”

She placed her hand over his, as if she were about to guide his cock inside. “Please, Jaime.” She begged.

He almost lost it. _Fuck._ He was overly aware of how good it would feel to just slide in and finally be inside her. Her cunt was practically sucking him in. The tightness it promised too tantalizing a prospect. But she was a maid and required preparation. It took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to push in.

“I have to get you ready first,” he whispered to his eager maiden. Resting his forehead against hers, he gazed into the two sapphire pools that lay before him. He drowned in them as he gently eased a finger inside her. It was a tighter fit than he could have imagined. His cock throbbed in anticipation. Slowly he added a second digit. Brienne grimaced. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yes. I’m fine, Jaime. I’m already ready now.” She insisted. 

He had to laugh, not an hour ago she had been running away from him.  
She scowled, her mistrustful mind jumping to the wrong conclusion, no doubt.

“First, let me take you to bed,” he said sweetly. Then you can slide my cock into your exquisitely tight cunt as many times as you like.

"Take me then", she replied with a desperation that could only be matched by his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays to all. Thank you for reading.


	9. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now seasonally inappropriate. Again.
> 
> Brienne breaks her leg before the holidays and is forced to cancel her plans. She expects to spend Christmas alone. Jaime isn't having any of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just romantic smut with zero plot progress. I regret nothing! Except making you guys wait so long. I regret that.

Water was haphazardly splashed about as he hurriedly helped Brienne out of the tub. He couldn’t have given less of a fuck. Their lips crashed against each other as he wrapped a towel around her, and she wrapped herself around him, holding him tight. Just like he wanted. _Fuck._ He loved it. He loved the feel of her naked body as he dabbed up droplets and left behind clean freckled skin for him to caress.

“Hand me my chemise.” She requested once he had gotten her mostly dry. Her hands running over his shoulders and down his biceps before releasing him.

“The nighty?” He asked unsure. The thing lay strewn on the bathroom floor along side his own clothing.

“Yes.” She confirmed. “And I need my crutches too.” He was quick to fetch the crutches but denied her the chemise, attempting to give her another hungry kiss instead. She rebelled. “I need to use my crutches to walk and I don’t want to do that while I’m undressed.”

“Come on, naked crutches is nowhere near as embarrassing as having to walk around with this.” He scoffed as he gestured to his colossal boner. But he retrieved the item just the same and helped her put it on. It was pretty. The type of thing a maiden should wear to her bedding, and have stripped off.

“I suppose you also need help with this?” He noted as he knelt to remove the plastic bag that encased her cast. From his vantage point he could just barely make out her curls through the thin white material. He leaned in and kissed her mound, a mere layer of fabric keeping him from what he desired. He smiled up at her. His fingers playing with the hem, moving it slowly up her thigh.

“Shouldn’t we get to bed?” She urged, her voice uneven with need. “I fear I might fall.”

“Making you weak at the knees, am I wench?”

“You wish.” She said defiantly. “In case you’ve forgotten, my name is B-R-I-E-N-N-E and my leg is broken.”

With that said she began making her way out of the bathroom. He took the opportunity to quickly collect the condom he had stowed in the pocket of his discarded pajama pants, then followed suit. Admittedly, he wanted to fuck her without it. And she’d wanted to have just him inside her not two minutes ago. But he knew better, knew that she was too young to deal with the possible consequences. There'd be plenty of time for that later. Still, that didn’t stop him from wanting. _Fuck._ The way she’d all but begged for his cock was beyond maddening. The primal need to take her and fill her up with his seed was near overwhelming. He had to get a grip. It was going to be ridiculously good regardless. He could already tell. He had to stop himself from rushing her or grabbing her as she walked cautiously with the aid of her crutches. Instead, he stayed close behind and tried to calm himself.

Upon reaching her bed, she set her crutches aside and arranged herself atop. His heart thrummed as he looked her over. An exceedingly tall and muscled maid with brilliant blue eyes awaited. Nothing could have been sweeter to him. He moved on her fast, joining her, and doing his damnedest to kiss away any doubts that might have resurfaced.

“This nighty suits you very nicely.” He praised as he palmed her teats.

“You do like it then?” She asked nervously.

“I like it so much, I’m about to rip it off.” He confessed gruffly, his hand coming to fist the white satin and playfully threatening to do just that. Her face lit up with pleased disbelief, but she shook her head from side to side.

“You mustn’t.” She warned.

“Then you must allow me to remove it gently instead.” He advised as he delicately pulled the garment of her body. “You make me so fucking hard.” He growled as he loomed over her, loving the blush he provoked. Yet yearning to see her bashfulness give way to desperate need once more. Locking eyes with her in a deliberate seduction, he licked down her body sensuously until he reached her cunt. The act worked to seduce him as much as it did her. He found himself fervently kissing her blonde curls before nuzzling her thighs apart. She was drenched and willing.

Spreading her was the deepest of delights. As if he were savoring the sight of some rare orchid. It’s beauty unknown to any other man. “A taste?” He heard himself beg before his tongue had darted out to run along her pink folds.

“Oh, Jaime.” She sighed as he lapped at her, her honey all his now. Loving it, he buried his face between her legs as he grew wild and greedy. The scent and taste of his woman making his cock ache. He found it didn’t take long to drive her towards that edge. She was wonderfully responsive. Just the slightest flick of his tongue would cause her to shake and shudder. Grinning he gently slid one finger inside and then added another. Curving them upward, he fucked her with his digits as he suckled on her clit. She arched into him and came loudly moments later.

He shivered in delight as he watched her, continuing his assault as she spasmed and did not cease until she had yanked him up by his hair. “I could go down on you for ages.” He suggested licking his lips. “I could make you come again, and again, and again.” And surely spill into the sheets as I lick you. “Or are you wanting something else?”

“Something else.” She affirmed blushingly. He smiled. Wanting nothing but to oblige. As smoothly as he could manage he produced the condom he had strategically kept tucked away. He’d barely caught a corner of the packet between his teeth before she began scolding him.

“Not like that, Jaime. It might rip.” She took the packet and opened it properly. Curious as to where it had come from, but not bothering to inquire.

“Help me put it on?” He asked innocently. He only had one hand after all. He would need help.

“I know how to.” She informed him. “I had to practice it on a banana when I took sex ed.”

“I would expect a girl scout like yourself to always be prepared.” He noted. She flushed.

“Jaime, about before, I’m sorry… I forgot myself.”

“You mean when you were pleading with me to just fuck you because you wanted my cock so bad?”

“Yes.” She admitted grudgingly and utterly crimson.

“Don’t be. That was so fucking hot. I almost lost it.” She took hold of him just then. He hissed. She placed the condom over his tip and carefully rolled it down over his cock until it was on just right. Even that felt good to him. “I wanna be so deep inside you.” He blurted out in barely contained anticipation. “I wanted to fuck you so bad when we were in the bath. But I’m always going to take care of you first. Know that.”

He saw it in her eyes. Her trust. She knew.

“Your eyes are so beautiful.” He said. “Sometimes when you look at me I can’t stand how pretty they are. But I can’t stand to look away either.” She gasped. Her great blue eyes wide with wonder. No one had ever paid her the compliment before, he gathered. It was a shame. “I love you.”

“Jaime.” She cried suddenly. “I do too. This…”

“This is everything to me, Brienne. I don’t do one-night stands. I want to be with you.”

“Yes.” She breathed. “I want that. I want you, Jaime. I have for so long.” _Fuck._ Her hands were all over him, touching his hair, his face, his chest. She caressed down his body until she was stroking him. “Please. Now.” She begged. “I want to feel you inside me. I want to know what that’s like.”

Unable to form a verbal response, he hoisted a leg over his shoulder before easing the tip in gently. The hot stretch of her nearly overwhelming him as he slowly slid in. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ He was going to come. He felt some resistance before realizing he had taken her maidenhead.

“Does it hurt?” He asked gasping. Even through his delirium he could see that her brow was furrowed.

“I’m fine.” She whispered against his cheek. “Just keep going.” He did. Until she had taken all of him.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He panted, loving the feel of her to the point of madness. “Is this okay?”

“It’s… I feel so full.”

“Is that bad?” He asked anxiously, just trying to hold on, just wanting to make it nice for her.

“It’s good.” She whispered reverently as she clung to him, her hands smoothing over his back. He kissed her as he thrust. She let out a sharp moan, her eyes wide as if from shock. He stilled. “Again.” She encouraged. His hips obeyed before his mind knew what he was doing. It felt so fucking _good_ he could hardly bear it. “Again, Jaime. Please.” She begged. He kept it up. Hitting the right spot. Again and again. She liked it deep.

He took a teat and suckled greedily, the condom the only thing keeping him in the game. He was grateful for the damn thing. At least he hadn't embarrassed himself thus far, thought he felt he might spill at any second. _Fuck._ He forced himself to release her nipple for fear he might bite too hard. He had meant to go slow, but he was giving her what she wanted. Her hand was on his ass. Insisting. Urging him on.

“Say you love it.” He demanded.

“I do love it. Oh god Jaime, I love it so much.”

“Say you love me.” He pleaded against her swollen lips. “Say it.”

“I love you.” She sobbed, clutching him tightly.

“Brienne.” He cried amidst a series of intense thrusts. “I love you.”

She came undone, moaning loudly in a fit of ecstasy as she writhed beneath him and shook the bed. The sounds she made pleased him. The way she felt even more so. Her exquisite cunt was clenching around him mercilessly as she climaxed, devastating him. She made him come _so. fucking._ _hard_. The pleasure of it wrecked him. She was still trembling and gripping his cock minutes later.

He pulled out with a curse, hating having to leave. She made a sound of protest and pulled him close. Still wanting him. It would have been heaven to stay inside her. But he had this utter mess to contend with. He took care of the condom and jumped right back in bed. She welcomed him with waiting arms, pulling him atop her and wrapping a leg around his waist. They shared a languid toe-curling kiss as he melted into her.

She recovered faster than he did, he noted. He was ruined. All he could do was cling to her as she cradled him in her arms. He couldn’t tell which of them had come the hardest. Probably him. _Undoubtedly him._ Still, her enjoyment had been quite exuberant, he recalled smugly. That was uncommon for a maid, though his maiden had always been a startling rarity. 

“Merry Christmas, Jaime.” She cooed as she gently stroked his golden hair.

He had actually forgotten the holiday. He had actually forgotten about everything outside of Brienne.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” He greeted sleepily and took such joy in saying it.

As soon as his spent body could manage it he would ask Brienne to meet him by the Christmas tree so he could present her with his gift. He hadn't even placed it under the tree yet, since it was such a large, awkward package. He was eager for all the kisses and “good boyfriend” points he’d get. Plus, he was dying to know what she’d gotten him. She too had neglected to put her gift under the tree. Mayhaps for the same reason.


	10. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Here is the last installment. If you haven't read this fic in a while, you might want to refresh. I doubt this chapter will make much sense unless you are up on the backstories I tried to sprinkled throughout this fic.

“Jaime, have you woken?” She asked softly upon feeling him stir in her arms.

“Mmm. Almost,” he murmured.

She had been watching him sleep for nearly an hour. It had been a time of quiet but elated contemplation. She lay beneath him as still as the dead, though her body was brimming over with a joy she could scarcely contain. It all seemed like some mad dream. She was not made for love, the world had told her. Ugly women never were. Huge ugly women even less so. Yet here she was, wrapped up in Jaime’s arms.

No longer able to resist, she caressed his face, losing herself in the sand-papery feel of his morning stubble. He was smiling now even as she stroked his cheek. She found herself tiling his chin upwards and pressing her lips to his. Jaime seemed pleased to be roused by her clumsy kisses. He moaned his contentment as his arms held her ever more tightly. His insistent lips claiming hers again and again.

“I still can’t get over how hungry you are abed.” He laughed as their lips smacked apart. Neither could she. It made her shy to think of it. “Not too sore?”

She was sore and stretched. But it felt nice to her. Already she liked that he would leave a lingering ache afterwards. It kept the memory of every touch and every thrust vivid not only in mind but in body as well.

“I still feel so good, Jaime.” She blushingly admitted.

He began peppering her with all manner of sweet kisses then. His eager hand caressing all over her body. She had to giggle when she felt he had spent an unusually long time tracing the specs on her neck and shoulder.

“Jaime, what are you doing?”

“Counting freckles.” He replied as if it were the most natural thing to do.

“You can’t. There are too many.”

“No such thing as too many freckles.” Ha! This was coming from a man who had once called her spotty and laughed about it.

“But I surely have thousands.”

“Millions.” He corrected.

“I do NOT have a million freckles.” She protested.

“You have roughly six million freckles on your body. If my estimates are correct. They are all mine and I am going to kiss each and every one of them if it takes me 60 years.”

_His freckles?_

“These are _my_ freckles, Jaime. And you can’t take nearly so long just yet.” She dismissed but laughed when he tickled her in protest. “I mean, shouldn’t we get up soon? I still have to give you your Christmas present.”

“You already have.” His said smirking. “It was the best present I’ve ever received.”

“I was referring to the actual present I bought for you.” She flushed.

“Oh, that.” He said beaming. “I have something for you as well.” He bumped noses with her.

She hadn’t thought much about what Jaime might have gotten her. She’d been too busy worrying about what she’d gotten him. She still worried. Maybe it wasn’t her place to insist. Yet, when she remembered the box under his bed. The one that held all his gold medals. She simply had to. The loss of his hand may have robbed him of plenty, but there was so much he could regain. As his friend and now as his lover, she owed him the encouragement.

“Wanna reconvene by the tree in a few?”

“Yes.” She sighed against his lips before he was kissing her again.

_

She washed and dressed and spent too long a time trying to device some way she could haul Jaime’s present into the living room while on crutches. The long rectangular box was too cumbersome for her in her current condition. In the end, he’d had to do it himself lest she fall again.

She could feel her eyes grow large at the sight of the gift under the tree. It was an extra large package, wrapped in red and tied with golden ribbon. With an excitement she had not felt since childhood, she yearned to run to her gift and tear the wrapping off. However, she was not a child and restrained herself.

“I don’t even know who I want to go first.” Jaime bemoaned.

“You go first.” She heard herself insist. Nothing would be worse than opening her gift and loving it, and then seeing Jaime open his and hate it. “I hope you like it.”

“Well, it better be good.” He teased wryly as he tore into the wrapping paper.

He didn’t say anything for a second. It was the longest second of her life. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were wet. Her heart crumpled. He was insulted and furious and…

He kissed her. It was a needy kiss, as if he were just dying for her love and every touch she gave him was a blessing to him. She poured herself over him, wrapping him up in her embrace, and giving him all the strength and comfort she possessed.

“You really think I could, again?” He asked with a foreign note of optimism in his voice. She’d never known him to sound so hopeful.

“Yes.” She breathed. She spoke the word as if she were saying his name. As if she were saying _I love you._  
“It’s specially designed to help with balance and attaches at the arm. I had it made just for you.”

“Thank you.” He breathed against her lips before kissing her with a passion that made her tremble. “Thank you, Brienne. I’ve wanted to go back for so long.” He confessed. “I’ve missed going down the slopes. I’ve missed everything about it. I was just… Proud? Lost?”

“Adjusting,” she suggested gently.

“Yes.” He agreed gratefully. He laughed. “So this is why you were all up in arms over me cancelling the ski trip?”

“Well, I had hoped to give you the poles before you left. I meant to send you off to practice.”

“That makes sense.” Jaime noted with a look of recognition in his eyes. “And Tyrion was in on it?”

“I spoke with him about it. I wanted his opinion. He didn’t say anything, did he?”

“Don’t worry, the sneaky imp never clued me in. I just thought you two were overly dramatic about the importance of sticking to pre-established vacation plans.”

He might have been saying that purely for her benefit. But she was too ecstatic to pay it much mind. Months from now she could be at the Eyrie racing down the Moon Door with Jaime. Or they could both be training on Sweet Robin’s slope with all the beginners. What did it matter as long as they were together and doing something they loved?

“Will you be my ski instructor once your leg heals?”

“Of course. We’ll train together.” She promised.

“It’s a date.” He concurred making it official. “Now, open your gift.” He urged eagerly.

Her excitement was almost too much to contain. Tearing into the red paper, she saw a deep blue material. Almost instantly she recognized the carbon fibers.

“It’s a sail?” She exclaimed. “Jaime, you got me a sail?”

“Didn’t Aegon hit your sailboat pretty hard? I thought you said something about needing a new one.”

She kissed him. Hard. Her entire being overflowing with gratitude. Her eyes misting.

“This is too much, Jaime. A sail of this quality… it’s just too much.”

“I’m your boyfriend now. I get to buy you nice presents. Besides, what you got me wasn’t cheap either.”

“But my present wasn’t nearly as expensive.”

“How about you take me sailing someday? To make it even.”

“You want to go to Tarth?” She asked shocked.

“You’re going to have to take me home to meet dad sooner or later. Or at the very least, inform him of my existence.”

“He knows that I …”

“That doesn’t count.” He interrupted. “He thinks I’m a girl. And I do want to go to Tarth. I want to see if the blue of its waters could possibly match the blue of your eyes.” She could feel herself blushing.

“We can call him now, Jaime.”

He laughed. “Are you sure you’re ready for that? You’re not going to freak out, right?”

“I want him to know you, Jaime.” She assured him as she pulled him close. “It’s just like you said. You really are my Christmas miracle. Thank you.” She mumbled before internally cringing at how lame she sounded.

"You’re my fucking life miracle, wench". He told her before they were kissing each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read my story. A special thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos. Any feedback is appreciated. :)
> 
>  
> 
> [Also, here's a graphic I made to go along with the fic ages ago.](http://sapphire-lions.tumblr.com/post/106282657734/jaime-lannister-christmas-miracle)


	11. Epilogue: Brienne

The day was bright and crisp. Wind perfect for sailing. After the drama of opening presents and her father’s new girlfriend, she was happy to have some time to take Jaime out on the sapphire waters. It was lovely to put to use the amazing gift he had given her one year prior. The blue sail adding splendor to her cherished sailboat.

“He’s sold on me now.” Jaime informed her confidently, as he sat back in her favorite arm chair on Oathkeeper’s deck. Looking sexier than anyone had a right to in a Santa hat.

“He’s been sold on you all along.” She protested.

Jaime eyed her skeptically. “He had his reservations at first.”

“Well…” 

“Which do you think he found most objectionable, the dating a Lannister part or the dating an old man part?”

“You are in your thirties.” She scoffed. “Still young and in your prime.” And way too handsome for her own good.

“That is very kind of you to say, wench. But I am upward of ten years your senior. That can’t be easy for a father to take.”

“My name is _Brienne_ , Lannister.” 

“Your name is about to be Brienne Lannister.” He said provocatively. His hungry gaze upon her. 

It made her blush. She hadn’t meant it like that. But he was right. Her eyes went to the beautiful diamond ring on her thick finger. She still hadn’t kicked the habit for staring at it in wonder a dozen times a day, though she’d been wearing it for months now. “In February.” She agreed. Jaime had insisted on a Winter wedding, too impatient to wait for Spring. 

“What I meant was that, firstly, you are not old. And secondly, my father is not concerned with age.”

“It’s sweet that you still think your dad free of any prejudice.” He said, smiling at her as if she were the most innocent of snowflakes.

“Jaime, my dad couldn’t possibly have had an issue with your age. He once set me up with someone way older than you.” She informed him, somewhat peeved by his condescension.

“What?” He exclaimed in alarm. “How old?”

“Sixty-five.”

“And what was Selwyn thinking exactly?” Jaime demanded, horrified. 

“He just wanted me to have someone.” She answered meekly, feeling terribly embarrassed the more she thought of it. Why had she even volunteered this information? 

“But sixty-five?”

“And I was younger then, than I am now.” She reminded him. 

“Hm. I guess I shouldn’t feel like too much of a creep that I’m getting such a young wife then.” He said seizing her up and pulling her onto his lap. “At least our age gap doesn’t span over multiple generations.” 

“You shouldn’t feel like a creep at all.” She said cuddling up against him as he kissed her neck. “Twenty-four is not too young. I’m so ready, Jaime. My father is thrilled that I have someone who loves me like you do.”

“But we don’t even pass the half-your-age-plus-seven rule.” He teased. Sansa had been the one to point that out upon learning of their engagement. 

“That’s alright, me and Humfrey Wagstaff never passed it either.” 

Jaime grinned. Proud some of his sass had rubbed off. “You know I can’t wait right? That I’ve literally been counting down the days since I got that ring on your finger?”

She nodded yes, touched to the verge of tears. Kissing him desperately, she quickly undid his pants, her hand eagerly slipping in to pump his hardening manhood.

“I knew we were going to fuck on Oathkeeper.” He told her matter-of-fact. “I just wasn’t sure how much convincing I was going to have to do.”

“Not any.” She assured him. “This is why I took us so far out.” They were miles from shore. Completely alone. “Plus, I wore these short shorts and this knitted poncho for a specific reason.”

“To seduce me.”

“The shorts are easy to remove and the poncho will provide cover just in case.” She said as she stripped herself bare from the waist down. 

He gave her a filthy smirk. Delighted. “And who’s on the naughty list now, Freckles?”

“Not me. You said I was too good to ever get coal from Santa.” 

“Coal is not what Santa has for you today, little girl. Not that that helps with the creep issue.” Jaime japed, laughing at himself.

“Stop with that.” She demanded. 

“Come here then.” Jaime urged pulling her to him. “Mmm. Those legs.” He moaned. 

He was out and at full mast. Showing off how thick and big he was. Excitedly, he bit his lip as she straddled him. So ready to get ridden. They both cried out as she sunk down on his beautiful cock. 

“So fucking tight.” He praised. “You’re delicious. So hot. So sopping wet for me.” 

Still shy about the dirty talk, she left it mostly to him, though admittedly part of her loved all the nasty things he would say. “You feel so good too.” She confessed demurely. 

“Like how I fill you up?” He asked smugly as he fused their hips together, holding her to him for a long moment, and making her feel every glorious inch of him.

“Yes.” She grunted, loving it, and yet knowing she possessed the upper leg strength to ride him into submission whenever she pleased. She began to move over him forcefully, letting him know it as well.

“That’s wonderful.” He groaned appreciatively, enjoying himself. “But I have to get some of these too.” He informed her, impudently flipping the front of her poncho up and over her shoulders. The better to gain access to her teats. He was at them in a heartbeat, suckling one and tweaking the other with his fingers. So greedy.

She didn’t dare stop riding him, but did look around frantically, as if the possibility of getting caught had increased drastically now that they were no longer cover by her magic poncho. Only vast spans of the bluest water surround them though. Not a soul in sight.

She only rode him harder then, as the cool wind hit her heated skin. She felt free out here. 

“I love you.” He roared fiercely, his kisses claiming her, his hand coming to rub feverishly at her nub. “I love watching that tight blonde cunt take my cock. I love kissing you while you’re fucking me. I love how fucking good you’re fucking me.”

“I love you too.” She cried. High on the power of taking him however roughly she wanted. 

“I love being here.” He told her sweetly as he thrust up into her. Hitting just the right spot, over and over again, and making her sob raggedly. “I love these waters. They’re so blue. Almost as beautiful as your eyes.” She worked herself up and down on him wildly. Squeezing him mercilessly as she took him in and out of her body. “Fuck.” He cried. His head falling back. “This is perfect Bri.” He panted. “Better than my wildest dreams.”

“It’s perfect because of you. You made everything beautiful for me. You made me fall in love.” She wept. Coming around him. Hard. Feeling his passionate release. Holding him in her arms as he trembled beneath her. His seed deep inside her. Their pleasure having reduced the both of them to mewling kittens.

They just held each other. Kissing. Touching. Panting for breath.

“Merry fucking Christmas to us.” Jaime sighed blissfully. With arms locked around her, he remained buried inside. Just as they both liked. Just for a little bit longer. She melted into him. Kissing his sweaty bangs and caressing the stubble on his cheeks. Wanting nothing but the love he gave her. He was her Christmas miracle after all. “I hope we can make a tradition of this adventurous outdoor sex thing every year.” He added. “How about the Eyrie next time?”

“But we’ve made love there plenty.” 

“We have. In our suite. In bed. In the shower. In the Jacuzzi. Upon the bear rug in front of the fire. We could take it outdoors next. Remember when you straddled me at the bottom of Sweet Robin’s slope?” She had done that. Once. When nobody had been around. To build up moral after a particularly low point. “Next Christmas I could take you in the snow atop the Moon Door. Wouldn’t that be fun?” 

“That seems very dangerous.” She objected.

“That’d be part of the thrill. Besides, I’m finally getting good again.”

“You are. And you can have me at the bottom of the Moon Door, once you’ve skied down it, as long as no one is around to see. Elsewise, we’ll have to take it back to our room.”

“Deal.” He agreed with an eager smile that she just had to kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. :)
> 
> Please review.


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